


How It Feels

by allouette



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wouldn't mean much of anything to the casual observer, just another one of Adam's random tattoos picked out with no rhyme or reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Feels

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sandra for the beta.

"How does it feel?"

"It fucking hurts, how do you think it feels?"

"Well, I don't know! Look at you, you could be immune to the pain by now."

Adam rolls his eyes and if he could move, he'd probably reach over and smack Blake for being an idiot but fortunately for him, Adam has to keep still. He winces a little as the needle digs fresh, black ink under his skin, focusing on the buzz from the machine as the artist works instead of the burning pain. 

He has done this enough to know what to expect, to be used to it so he can sit like a rock through the whole process; there's an exhilarating sort of high he gets from the pain once it's over, he's never been able to explain it, but regardless it's always going to hurt. And in this particular spot, it's biting just a little bit more and Adam finds himself clenching his jaw every so often, gritting his teeth. 

"You're startin' to sweat a little," Blake comments again after another bout of silence, finally tearing his eyes away from what's going on further down Adam's body to look up at his face.

"I noticed, thanks."

"You're doing great, man," the tattoo artist says, a guy Adam has known and used for years and actually trusts with this. "Not too much left. You need a break?"

"I'm fine, don't stop. Blake, talk."

"What the hell do you want me to say?" Blake asks with a laugh, but he moves his chair up a little closer, knows Adam needs a distraction. 

"Something. Anything. You haven't shut up since the day we met and now when I actually want you to talk, you aren't saying a goddamn word."

"I can't help it if I'm distracted right now, okay? I'm sorry if I find this... _distracting_. And you wouldn't let me drink before we came so I'm not at my best."

Both Adam and tattoo guy snort at that, but Adam moves just enough to grab Blake's hand, squeezing his fingers. "I really don't care what you say, just talk to me."

So Blake hooks their fingers together and talks until the buzzing stops.

*** 

Later on, after Adam can peel the plastic wrap off of the tattoo and clean it up with plain, non-scented soap, he stands in front of a mirror to admire his new artwork. Blake comes up behind him and slides his hands over bare shoulders, his eyes glued to the mark just to the right of Adam's left hip bone, right below where that little dip is. He wants to touch it but knows he can't, not yet; the skin surrounding it is an angry shade of red and Blake had seen the blood on the discarded plastic. Instead he trails his fingers along the waistband of Adam's boxer briefs, pulled down low enough not to touch, lets his thumb sweep up across Adam's stomach.

"Are you happy with it?" Blake asks, his gaze skipping up to Adam's face in the mirror.

"It's fucking perfect. What do you think?"

"I think it needs to heal faster," Blake says against Adam's ear, his hand sliding down into the front of Adam's underwear.

*** 

Almost a week later when Blake is rubbing the recommended ointment on the tattoo - he insists on doing it as often as possible because he's ridiculous that way - and asking how it feels, Adam wants to rip his hair out.

"It itches like a motherfucker. You have ink, Blake, you know how it feels when they're healing!"

"It doesn't feel as crusty today, that's a good thing, right? Unless you've been scratchin' at it and the scabs are coming off."

"No, I haven't been scratching it, you dick. I have a little bit of self-control. Don't look at me like that! I've been scratching around it, which is complete bullshit and doesn't work at all," Adam bitches, covering his eyes with one of his arms as Blake continues to rub more of the ointment in; he knows it's the only way to soothe the maddening itch, if only temporarily.

"So cranky," Blake says, adding pressure to the skin around the tattoo, letting blunt fingernails scratch just a little. Adam lets out this _noise_ and Blake can't tell if it's a sigh or a whine, but it sounds pretty fucking awesome so he keeps scratching, back and forth, all the way around the design.

After a minute or two, Adam lets out a real sigh, deep and heartfelt. "If you stop, I'll kill you."

Blake laughs, leans down to blow a stream of cool air over heated skin; Adam shudders and twitches, threading his fingers through Blake's hair.

*** 

Blake leaves a few days later to spend some time in Nashville; there's a little bit of promo work to do because that never ends, a couple of days at a music festival he never misses, a stop at a studio he frequents to check out some potential new material. He squeezes a lot into four days, but he's back in LA on the fifth and Adam greets him with a smile and a drink.

Neither of them mentions it for a while, as Blake goes through the motions of settling back in, but it's there - the giant elephant in the room. It isn't until Blake is on his second drink and finally settles on the couch, kicking his feet up, that Adam moves in. He straddles Blake's lap, waits a second or two before he's pulling his shirt off over his head. 

"So did you miss me or what?" Blake asks, amusement clear in his voice, though his eyes have already gone dark and he wastes no time getting his hands on bare skin.

"You aren't going to ask me?"

"What?"

"How it feels?"

Blake swallows hard and his gaze drops to the ink just visible over the top of Adam's pants. That fraction of a second is all it takes for his mouth to go dry, and desire spikes hot and heavy in his veins.

"Is it..."

"Yup," Adam says, barely manages to finish saying, really, before Blake has his world tilting, pressing him flat on his back against the sofa. Adam laughs as soon as he hits the cushions, his grin gleeful as he watches Blake unbutton his pants and yank them down.

For a moment, Blake doesn't even know what to think. Stops thinking all together when he finally touches the fresh ink, sliding his thumb over soft, decorated skin. It wouldn't mean much of anything to the casual observer, just another one of Adam's random tattoos picked out with no rhyme or reason. But they know what to look for in the carefully planned out design; they can follow a certain curve until it shapes into a _B_ , trail over an intricate swirl that forms the top and bottom of an _S_. It's right there, plain as day to them - Blake's initials permanently etched into Adam's skin.

Blake lets out a muffled groan as soon as his mouth is on Adam's body. This is what he has wanted, what he has been waiting for, to have that particular patch of flesh under his tongue. 

Adam arches up into Blake's touch, one of his hands finding Blake's hair. The tattoo may be healed but it's still sensitive, and when Blake scrapes his teeth over it, Adam sucks in a sharp breath, letting it out with a soft, breathy laugh. "You're so weird, Shelton."

He's slow to ease back, smoothing a thumb over the tattoo again before he looks up at Adam, eyes so blue and intense. "It's different," Blake says, then he's moving, sliding up Adam's body until they're face to face. "Tell me this one doesn't feel different to you."

"It does," Adam agrees and wraps his arms up around Blake's neck. He says it because he means it, but from the look in Blake's eyes alone, he wouldn't dare disagree.

*** 

When Blake has Adam up on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed half an hour later, his fingers digging hard into inked skin, it's enough to make Adam wonder if it really is as healed as he originally thought. It twinges with pain the longer they go, pulsates with every thrust of Blake's hips, like Blake is pressing on a fresh bruise, but he'll be damned if he's letting go.

Afterward, lying in a sweaty, panting heap, Adam's hip is throbbing under Blake's hand and if it wasn't bruised before, it is now. Blake nuzzles the back of his neck, presses a kiss to salty skin, and focuses on breathing. Neither of them are making the move to separate, get some space between them to cool down. The effort it would take to do that is beyond their limits, and it’s just easier to stay still right now.

"It feels like you," Adam says after a while, his voice gone quiet as the drowsiness starts to set in.

"Hm, what?"

"Before, you said this one is different. And it’s because it feels like you."

Blake presses a grin into Adam's neck because what do you even say to that? Then Adam finally shifts, turning in his arms to face him.

"But now it's your turn," he announces, poking a finger in Blake’s chest. "And I get to be the one to drive _you_ fucking crazy. I was thinking... here," he adds, tracing a circle on Blake's rib cage. 

If the way Blake twitches and shivers under Adam’s touch is anything to go by, then yeah, that will be just perfect.


End file.
